While the Cat's Away
by Hannah Lynn McDonald
Summary: Co-written with Samsquatch67. Abraham and Adam talk one night while Henry is away.


Heavy breathing filled the frigid night, sounding along with distant sirens, cars, and other noises one came to expect in New York. Abe gripped the car keys tightly in his hand, trying to get out to his vehicle as fast as he could manage. He cursed his back, and his joints, and his aging body... With a loud huff, he continued making his way, trying to be cautious on the icey pavement. His father had died, again, and he could only hope that he wouldn't freeze before Abe could get there. Freeze and then come back to life again... And they'd already been through that only a year ago. He sighed. And then slipped.

With a loud exclamation, he fell, his head connecting first with the car door, and secondly with the ground. For a moment, there was pain. Then there was only darkness.

* * *

He glanced away from the stars when he heard the yell, automatically tensing. He knew there was nothing to harm him for long, but the memory of the nightmare was still too fresh.

He sighed, turning to walk towards the sound. Perhaps it was nothing – but he could not stand by and let something happen. He winced, as the dream – the memory – echoed through the cold night to him again. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he bent his head and walked into the wind, crossing around the front of the vehicle – stopping when he saw the old man fallen to the pavement beside the car.

He crouched on the ice beside the man, checking his pulse; relieved to find it strong. Carefully feeling through the man's hair, he frowned slightly as he recognised Simiel – Isaac? No – Abraham. Pulling his hand away, he winced in sympathy with the blood he found on it, pulling out a handkerchief and pressing it to the wound. Applying pressure with one hand, he felt the man's bones with another – ensuring that nothing was broken.

He sighed. Henry had gotten himself in trouble again – it was the only reason his son would be in such a hurry on such a terrible night... Well, Henry could freeze. His son was not immortal and he needed to remember that before he killed him by idiocy.

Beneath his hand, Abraham groaned but didn't stir – the blood barely beginning to slow.

Adam quickly gave a cursory examination for internal injuries but found none; and he sat back. He tilted his head, looking down at the child. He wouldn't be remembered, but he still remembered the little boy. The last in his bloodline. Not that either would know that...

Abraham moaned against, his eyes beginning to flutter open. He squinted at the ground, sluggishly raising a hand to his head. Someone was applying pressure, trying to stop the bleeding - he assumed it was Henry. His arm dropped back down and he fought to stay conscious.

"Still, Simiel – you will be safe. But it is necessary that you remain awake – do _not_ go back to sleep."

His head felt heavy and light at the same time, impossible to lift and impossible to focus. He groaned again, longer this time, trying to find some recognition of the voice. Simiel? His name was Simiel? "Wh-at.. happened?" his voice was grating, even to himself.

Adam winced, realising his mistake. "You slipped on a patch of ice and hit your head upon the door of your car, Abraham – I hardly think that it will do your father any harm to wait a few minutes longer if it will ensure your safety, hm?" He studied the man's eyes. "Can you attempt sitting up?"

"Of course I can sit up, what do you think I am, eighty..." Abraham grouched, though his voice was slurred and his words forced.

Adam stifled a smile, helping the other man sit up. When he gasped, he frowned and immediately laid him back down. "What, exactly, pains you?"

"Neck," he choked, eyes pinched shut. He ground his teeth together, a withering hand reaching up to the wound and his fingers clamping down around Adam's wrist.

He pressed harder, not letting the man's grip shift the handkerchief. Reaching around with his free hand, he carefully felt the cervical vertebrae, sighing in relief when there were none broken. "You merely sprained your neck – but I fear that you will have to work through it. You are hardly in condition to lie out upon the street until you recover. Come, hold your neck still and sit up – carefully." He used his free hand to support the neck and hold it still while Abraham tried to sit up again.

Abe sat up, this time he merely winced - biting back any pained sounds. "Henry?" he managed to ask, the feeling that something had gone terrible wrong with him was there - but for the life of him he couldn't think of what had happened.

Adam stilled, his grip loosening for a moment. "No, I am not your father, Abraham. Your father isn't here at the moment – but he will be fine without you, trust me."

Abe only gave a small nod, both sharp and throbbing agony filling his head.

He pressed is lips together as the mortal winced, looking up and around for the antique shop he kept. "Come – we will stand and relocate to a far better location." He stood, and then carefully helped the older man to stand; trying to avoid jarring him. Once they were both upright, he stood and let Abraham get his bearings.

Abraham began grumbling as they started walking, complaining under his breath, words like 'decrepit' and 'sore' being some of many.

The Immortal focused at first at merely supporting the other, but then he began listening to the complaints as he brought him to the door of the shop, trying the handle and then bending to quickly pick the lock. Straightening again, he ushered Abe within, shutting the door behind him and looking around for the sitting room. "I would hardly term you 'decrepit', Abraham."

"You're right, just ask my..." Whatever inappropriate joke he was going to make was stopped short as the pounding became increasingly worse as the initial numbing shock wore off.

He stumbled beneath the sudden weight of the other man falling for a moment from the worsened headache. Seeing a sofa, he dragged the man over to it and sat him down, lifting his hand to apply pressure to his own wound. Seeing the pricetag, he winced as he pictured Abraham's reaction when he found the blood later.

Abe squinted at the man before him, still trying to place where he'd seen him before.

He pulled off his hat and gloves, frowning at the blood soaking in the leather, glancing back up as he felt Abe's eyes on him. His smile was wry as he glimpsed the spark of recognition in the unfocused gaze.

"Adam." Abe continued to watch him, suspicion now in his glassy eyes.

He bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. "Indeed – I am very sorry to meet again under such circumstances, but I could hardly allow you to remain lying in the street; and I assume Henry is in the strait again for whatever reason?" He shivered slightly, remembering the cold of the water at this time of year. He wished there was something he could say to allay Abraham's suspicions; but as he was, there was no chance. "He will return soon enough and I will leave you to his care."

" That's nice. A little too nice," Abe commented, trying to ignore the headache turning to a migraine.

He hummed noncommittally, knowing how his intentions sounded. "But I am not Adam tonight, Abraham – I am Dr. Lewis Farber. Nothing untoward will happen, I promise you." He stood, and began turning down the lights in the shop. "Will he know to return on his own?"

"Yes," Abe replied. "What are you doing?"

He frowned and fiddled with a stuck switch for a moment before it twisted off. "I cannot imagine that a headache with all lit up like midday is comfortable." He returned to Abe's side, lifting the edge of the handkerchief. "The bleeding is slowing."

"Good for it, why are you helping?" Abe changed the topic back again, his voice strained.

He sat back, lightly folding his hands in his lap. "I could hardly in good conscience leave you lying on the ice until you contract and die of influenza or some other such thing – never mind brain trauma or hypothermia. Perhaps you would like some tea?"

The word 'tea' was repeated by the mortal, rolling around on his tongue as though he couldn't place what 'tea' was anymore. As though the thought was just out of reach, and he should have known it, the answer being so simple and yet there was nothing. He made a sound somewhere between a growl and a groan, pressing his free hand to his temple and continuing to apply pressure with the other. "Dad?"

The longer Abraham hesitated, the more concerned he became; and the Immortal flinched away when he addressed him, closing his eyes tightly for a moment. "Not now, Si-Abraham. Not now." He sighed, standing slowly. Abe was hardly likely to wander off – he would be safely left alone while he went to put water on. Even so, he locked to door before leaving the room.

The water was quickly enough started, and he searched the streets outside the window, hoping that Henry had somehow managed to arrive so quickly. Seeing no one, he took a deep breath and returned to the sofa. Perhaps his confusion had worn off...

Abe told himself he would lay down for only a moment - but when he did, he had no intention of sitting back up. The bleeding had all but stopped, but still he applied pressure.

He stopped in the doorway, watching the young – old – man. It was too easy to see the little infant there, all alone and trusting whomever would hold and comfort it. Certainly, Abraham was much older and wiser now – but the little child was still there. Henry was blessed in more ways than he could possibly understand at the moment.

"When did you know?" Abe's voice was a mere croak. When did he know, when did he actually know he was Immortal - not when he first died, but when did he _know._

He momentarily considered evading the question, pretending to misunderstand the man. "My wife died when she was seventy-one, and I looked not a day older than twenty-five. I did not age, and had died twice saving my children. Perhaps 'knowing' I would live forever was a bit much, but I certainly had a strong inkling that I would lose many before my end."

Abe watched him, his eyes open to slits. "How did you find Henry?"

He was silent, watching Abraham. "Through Abigail Morgan's history of acquaintances. I hardly expect to find two men completely identical with the same name – Henry Morgan was never buried under Nora's purview." He stepped into the room again, pulling out a chair that looked mostly reliable and sitting almost across from Abe. "When one looks for these things, Henry is hardly impervious to detection."

"You knew Mom?" He sat up again, looking for then a little lost.

"Yes, for a little while – she would call you Isaac – she respected your father's privacy, as she would have mine had she been able to return." He smiled slightly, relaxing at the memory. "She was a wonderful woman – Henry was blessed to have known her."

"Yes, she was..." Abe looked distant - quietly sad. He'd always wanted to know where she had gone when she'd left, for so long he'd searched.

He hesitated, and then leaned forward. As the Immortal, it mattered little what closure the man had, but as the doctor... "Did she not tell you why she left?"

"No." The word was slurred, and he dropped the cloth he held to the wound, instead pressing shaking hands against his face.

There were very few mortals that Adam cared about, that he allowed close enough to affect him. Children had always had his detached projection, and the most child-like were always more likely to be accorded friendship. He was still a father, although he buried his instincts far away with the better halves of him. If he would have thought it would do any good, he would have moved to sit beside Abraham, but he knew that the man's opinion of him was influenced by Henry's obstinately dark take upon him.

"Nein, nein. She had cancer, Sim-Abraham. She perished little more than a year later." He grit his teeth as Eilam's facet pushed forward again, the time still too recent for him. "She could not let your father watch her die." He breathed in sharply, trying to find a balance between the psychiatrist and the Jew within him. "The child was doing as she thought best – she thought of you ceaselessly."

There were tears in Abe's eyes, but he stayed silent, letting the quiet of the antique shop settle over them. There were too many reasons that he'd imagined. If he was being honest with himself - he was tired, and old, and slowly dying. One day he'd be gone, and Henry refused to accept that - who would be there for the Immortal M.E? He'd brought it up to the man several times, and it was always pushed away. But it was for more then just Henry's immortality that he brought it up. There were always more sides to a story then the ones others saw on the outside. He wanted to see his mother again - he didn't want to leave his father. But a point he never told Henry - he didn't want to die.

Adam rested his forehead on his hand for a moment, wishing Henry were wise enough to face the inevitability of his child's death – for Abraham's sake, at least. "You will likely be the only member of your family to die peacefully and painlessly, Abraham. It is but a door – one you will not return through. It is...peace, in a way I and your father will never know. But I would not take it from you for anything."

Abe briefly wondered if Adam was not only immortal, but a mind-reader as well. He could have made a joke. He could have laughed. But he hadn't the energy. "What is your name?" He pushed his fingers against his eyes as though it could push away the headache.

He watched the thoughts fly over Abraham's face, shaking his head slightly. At the question, he straightened again. "I believe your father introduced me as 'Adam'. Have you aspirin in this place? It will do a little good at least..."

"That's not what I meant. He doesn't care - but who is he going to be in a thousand years? Whose going to care that he's lost it all?" His words started to sound jumbled even to himself, but the thoughts were coming now, and he wouldn't dismiss them so easily.

Ah, and the contradictions of immortality made themselves apparent. The seventy year old child was wiser than the man of two centuries merely because of a little thing cursed as mortality – but that blessing that was age and death. "I cannot say what will become of your father. I, at least, will remember; as will he unless he chooses to completely forget it all. Although the memories play back before we live again, it is easy enough to discount them should we desire to. Henry sees me as the stark villain, Abraham – I would not have him twist my innocent youth to something sinister due to my elder actions. My name, and myself, can go no further – should you even recall it when he returns..."

"I'm not asking for Henry."

He sighed, reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose. "Ætius. I was born Ætius." He would not harm Abraham, but it would be easy enough to hold him away from Henry should he betray the confidence – although, somehow he knew that for him he could not do it... "It is a name I left behind because I betrayed all it meant and all that had held it dear. He died, at long last." He finally looked up again.

"Maybe he hasn't." Abe's sentence was quiet, slurred, and gravely, his eyes still glassy as though feverish. "Who was Simiel?"

"Shall I remind you that I am a cold-hearted murderer, Abraham? He has long been dead." He sighed, looking away again. "Simiel was the child for which I submitted to Mengele as an experiment for in Auschwitz – the last child of my bloodline. Merely one miracle amongst many in the holocaust..."

"Why did you call me Simiel?" Abe felt like a child again in his concussed state of mind - as though life itself was too much and too little.

His smile was sad. "You were not named when you were born – your mother never held you. I named you 'whom God makes grow old' for the hope that you would survive Auschwitz."

"I think He made me grow a little too old," Abe chuckled despite himself.

He stared at the other for a moment, and then a smile flashed across his face. "I cannot argue the contrary for myself."

Abraham huffed another laugh. He soon sobered. "I need to get Henry..." He tried to stand.

Adam quickly reach forward to press the man back to the sofa. "No, you need not. You are sitting here politely conversing with me – I hardly think it safe for you to travel anywhere. If you are truly worried about his safety, I will go to fetch him – but under no circumstances will you. I hardly brought you in here just for you to further injure yourself..."

Yeah, yeah," Abe grumbled, waving a hand dismissively. He sighed as he leaned back.

Adam waited a moment until he was certain his charge would remain there before sitting back himself. "Henry would hardly thank me for the transport regardless..."

"Yeah, he wouldn't, would he." Abe rubbed his forehead. "I don't even know what happened this time..."

He rolled his eyes slightly. "Likely, he was investigating things he had no business intruding upon... He is quite fortunate our immortality does not seem to have a set amount."

"Yeah. You lose track of his deaths after the first time you have to be the one killing him." Abe frowned, feigning an amused smile.

"...one could say that. Even I do sleep even if he does not and believes that I do not either..." He relaxed somewhat, letting himself feel safe for the moment; even as he fingered the knife in his pocket for whenever Henry inevitably returned. "I will not be around so much longer – you and he may return to your life as it was before, sans all other immortals."

"Yeah," Abe sighed, still trying to make sense of the now-blurred images around him. It would go away. But until it did, and when Henry got back, he could already imagine the series of emotions the young Immortal would go through. "Wonder if a cab driver would actually pick him up."

"While I do not doubt it will not be for lack of attempts upon his part, I believe that he shall have to test in reverse his excuse of somnambulism."

Abe laughed, then halted, staring off at the wall for a moment. "You said Simiel was the last of your bloodline."

He tilted his head slightly. "Indeed I did."

"You're... Did Dad - did Henry -, does he know?"

He shook his head slightly. "I stood at his grave in 1815. If I could have, I would have comforted Nora, a barren widow – but what would I say? No – I believed him dead and disregarded what else occurred with his line. To see him again..." He trailed off, knowing there was nothing he could say and uncertain what he meant to say. "He will never know."

Immortals, Abe scoffed in his mind. But it made sense, in it's own way - Adam, he may be an Immortal, but Henry had certainly seen cases with people more twisted. There were many who had done equally as heinous crimes. Worse. So why out of everyone was Henry so seemingly disgusted by him? Maybe they were too much alike - maybe it was only because one day that would be him. Maybe fear was the driving factor, not a sense of right-and-wrong, not morals, not love, nor family. Adam was an equal. The only difference between him and the rest of the world, was he would keep living. He and Henry living even as the Earth changed - even as billions died and billions were born, still they would remain.

He heard the water boil, and quickly stood to turn it off, having forgotten it. The tea was quickly steeped, and he returned; letting himself simply be – not wondering about immortality or his persona at the moment. He set Abraham's on a small table beside the sofa.

"I can't believe I'm sayin' this, but thank you," Abe paused, "Ætius. Just don't tell Dad I said that, he might go into shock and I've had enough bad experiences with trying to pick him up from the Strait tonight."

"Do not call me that, Abraham." He took a careful sip of his tea, letting it rest upon his knee when it was too hot. He waved Abe's thanks away dismissively. "I was hardly going to sleep tonight regardless."

Abe sighed, eying the tea with something of a disdainful look. He rubbed his temples, temporarily ignoring the drink.

"It's hardly poison, merely hot."

Abe cautiously looked at the tea, frowned, then took a sip.

A wry smile flashed through the Immortal's eyes. "As I said..." He looked around the shop, passing the time.

"Yeah, yeah..."

A sincere smile appeared on his face for a moment. "i assume that this," He gestured to the items in the shop, "Are the results of Henry's life?"

"Yeah, he's not always happy about the things that sell."

He looked around the shop again, noting the items that were most likely used by Henry – which ones were too old or too new or simply too...wrong he passed off as Abraham's additions. "It is quite easy to believe that..."

Abe took another drink. He was beginning to worry that Henry hadn't made it out of the river yet.

Adam glanced at his wristwatch, and then towards the door – his thoughts almost mirroring the mortal's, although his ran more along the vein of wondering if Henry had returned to the strait. "Will he wait for you long?"

Abe followed his gaze to the door. "Not that long."

Adam sighed, returning his attention back to Abraham. He was finally relaxing, and he was certain that he would be able to sleep when he returned.

Outside, a taxi came to a halt - the rather un-cared for breaks could be heard even inside the store.

Adam twisted back around to look out through the door, hearing Abraham standup, ignoring the dizziness that undoubtedly assailed him.

"Henry."

Adam turned back, carefully setting the teacup and saucer to the floor. "I thank you for your hospitality, Abraham; and sincerely hope to never partake of it again." He stood. "Farewell." Turning towards the kitchen, he pulled the knife out of his coat, dragging it across his neck and severing both the carotid and juglar. He was nearly into the kitchen when he collapsed, and he could faintly hear the taxi drive away.

There was no need to leave a note for the younger Immortal, for the physician would easily diagnose his son. He could hear Abraham take an uncertain step towards him, and then the door of the shop open as everything faded out around him. The waters would be cold, but all would be well.

* * *

 _AN: AU for basically any version I write. Although this is set in my usually backstory and set shortly after the episode Hitler on the Half-Shelf, this doesn't happen and was just a bit of musing that Samquatch67 helped me write. She wrote Abe._ _12-3-2015_


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